5 Of The Worst Songs You Could Ever Have Sex To

There are few things I enjoy more than making themed playlists for most avenues of my life. Each year my besties and I take a drive upstate to pick apples (and to go outlet shopping because we are privately in our mid-50s) and annually I subject them all to my apple-themed mix cd.

At this point, it is chore for them and a transformative joy for me. How many songs are there that involves apples, apple orchards, or fruit in general? SO MANY. Or, as those forced to listen to my apple mixes might tell you, way more than there should be or they ever thought possible.

This is but one arena in my life where obsessively curated musical journeys have been fundamental. Before I went to actually take my driver’s test, I created a “I Failed My Driver’s Test Mix at Age 30” and a “I Passed The BALLS Out of My Driver’s Test at Age 30”. I worried more about the placement of 50 Cent’s "Bitch Get In My Car" than I did about whether or not I could properly execute a three-point turn. I am pleased to say that I managed that decision and the actual driving maneuver with equally impressive aplomb.

Weirdly, I don’t make sexy time naked playlists. This is totally deliberate. Mainly because I don’t want to spoil the mood by pausing mid-gyration to explain the importance of the track I have picked and what it means for the upcoming position transition. Because that is something an insane person would do. Maybe even more importantly, I don’t want to have to title those playlists, save them to iTunes and then have some random at my next social gathering who decides to play DJ being all, “Hey, what’s this playlist marked XXX BEX HARDCORE all about?” If I did ever make a frantic humping mix it would one: be called "the frantic humping list" and two: absolutely never include the following five songs.

Unless you call each other’s genitals "lime" and/or "coconut," there is nothing remotely sexy about this song. If you do call each other’s genitals lime and/or coconut that is disgusting and you should probably stop. If you must have fruit involved in your coitus at all times, I guess get all tropical food-play with your bad selves. But leave Harry Nilsson out of it. For my sake.

First thing first: It’s on the nose. Because you are doing it. Second thing second: You aren’t necessarily in love. Maybe this is a hook-up you found via craigslist on some post with a headline like “Got Tuberculosis Fetish”. Or maybe you are just getting your fetish-free swerve on casual like as is your right and privilege. Third thing third: The only thing worse than having sex to a Cole Porter song is having sex to a Cole Porter song as belted by Alanis Morissette.

The eye-roll-worthy witticisms of Porter are fine to trill when you are in your zit-riddled teen theatre-loving years. But for the love of all that is holy, nothing aborts a pending climax like your partner quietly demanding that the waiter bring them some shad roe. NO, SONG, NO.

It’s just not a very good song. Look, I get that hate-banging is a thing and to those of you putting together a playlist to enjoy while spitefully bumping uglies, I applaud you and support your choices. But I just feel musically we as a people can do better than this one. For bonus awful points: Cry during.